


every way, everyday

by tunajohns



Series: the music that makes me dance [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship Is Everything, Implied past self harm, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, School Musical AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Teenagers React To Their Bad Mental Health, anxious and somewhat unreliable narrator, fobby lucas, gratuitous references to funny girl, guess whos pining uwu, marxist socialists doyu who need relationship counselling, minor character death (not anyone who's tagged), one-sided markhyuck, some mentions of anxiety, this is a mess, this is also set in australia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-04-08 10:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14103447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunajohns/pseuds/tunajohns
Summary: Donghyuck has a plan for this year - get the lead part in the musical, get through the hellhole he knows as school and get over his first love, Mark Lee. But life just doesn’t go to plan, and Donghyuck finds himself working backstage for the musical instead.It's actually not bad, once he gets used to it. But it'd be a lot better if Lucas Wong would stoplookingat him the way he does.





	1. overture

For Donghyuck, his first day of school starts as a sunny February morning, with Mr. Kim throwing his favourite mug at Mr. Moon’s head.

‘ _Funny Girl?_ ’ he hears Mr. Kim shriek, sounding not unlike a strangled goat, voice echoing through the Lower B-Block hallway. ‘I put forward  _Oliver._   _Billy Elliot. West Side Story._ I had  _Chicago_ as an option, Taeil.  _Chicago._  Out of all the musicals that could have been approved, how the  _sweet fuck_  do we get  _Funny Girl_?’

Donghyuck pauses, fist raised halfway to a polite knock.  _Funny Girl_ , he thinks. As this year’s musical. Well, the music’s nice, at least. He knows Jeno would  _love_  the Overture.

Mr. Moon cowers behind the CAPA faculty’s staff room dining table. ‘Dongyoung, you might want to pick up your cup? I mean, it  _is_  your favourite –’

Mr. Kim paces in front of the doorway, running a thin hand through his lavender hair, the movement accentuating the dark roots that have grown out of his scalp. ‘How the fuck is  _Funny Girl_  this year’s musical? We didn’t even put it down.’ As soon as the words leave his mouth, he stills. ‘Did we?’

Donghyuck watches in horror as Mr. Moon swallows, releasing an audible gulp that sails on gusts of air from the staffroom air-conditioner, straight into Mr. Kim’s fine-tuned ears. ‘Well, ah, about that.’

Mr. Kim stops. Donghyuck can’t see his face, but judging from Mr. Moon’s expression, Mr. Kim musn’t look very happy at all. The younger Music teacher sighs, walks over to his desk, and then, suddenly,  _screams_ , sweeping the neatly arranged stack of sheet music on his desk onto the floor with a flail of his arms. ‘Son of a  _bitch!_ ’ The papers go flying, and Mr. Moon and Donghyuck watch on mournfully as photocopies of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony and the Coconut Song float through the air. Mr. Kim’s hands are fisted in his dye-job, and Donghyuck’s a little bit worried, because he knows how brittle hair can get after bleaching. ‘You’re fucking  _adopted_  and no one loves you, Taeil Moon.’

Donghyuck wonders if he should make his presence known; as much as he loves Mr. Moon, and as much as the tears that threaten to form in his favourite Music teacher’s eyes are tugging at his heartstrings, he has to admit that there’s an element of absurdist drama to the situation.  _Dadaist_ , Renjun would probably say, probably whilst rolling his eyes as he carves out what would probably be his twenty-fourth lino print design. Donghyuck’s never going to admit it to his face, but Renjun’s one of the hardest workers he’s ever met in his life.

Talking about hard work, Donghyuck’s a bit tired of carrying the neatly printed composition in his hand around. He raps his knuckles against the doorframe, just as Mr. Moon’s eyes fall on him, clearly pleading for help from his hiding place behind a table leg. ‘Hi, Mr. Kim,’ he starts, schooling his face into the most neutral expression he can possibly force it into. ‘I just wanted to ask Mr. Moon something before school started…?’

Mr. Kim quickly straightens his posture, hands slapping at his suspiciously crinkled (in all the years Donghyuck’s known him, he’s  _certain_  that the teacher’s always come to school in shirts ironed straighter than Jaemin before meeting Renjun in junior year) dress shirt in an effort to smooth out the wrinkles. ‘Donghyuck! What a surprise to see you there. How long were you…?’

‘A few minutes?’ Donghyuck answers, blinking his eyes as innocently as possible as he indulges in the way Mr. Kim’s face slowly turns as red as his brother’s hideous Toyota Camry.

‘Ah. So you, um. Yes. I’ll just,’ Mr. Kim turns away, burying his face in his hands. ‘I’ll just. Clean up. Yeah. I’ll do that.’ He mutters something unintelligible to himself, crouching down to pick up the photocopied sheet music that he’d swept to the floor.

Mr. Moon takes the opportunity to scramble out from under the coffee table, dusting off his knees as he rises to Donghyuck’s height. Adjusting his tie for the day (a cute floral thing tied with an Eldredge knot), he coughs into a closed fist, blushing as he makes eye contact with Donghyuck’s left ear. ‘Let’s step outside the staffroom for a bit, shall we?’

‘No problem, sir,’ Donghyuck replies. He can feel his left eye twitching, biting down on his lower lip to quell the giggles that threaten to rise from his chest.

It takes all of Donghyuck’s willpower to wave a polite farewell to Mr. Kim’s stooped, blushing form and walk out into the hallway without laughing. He can’t help himself however, when Mr. Moon turns to him, the most sincerely heartfelt gaze in his eyes, and says ‘Donghyuck Lee, I think you just saved my life.’ The genuine gratitude in his eyes is too much for Donghyuck, who finds himself bending in half as he lets out the most ungracious, high-pitched snort he’s ever heard in his life. It doesn’t take too much before Mr. Moon’s breaking out into laughter too, covering his mouth with his hands in an effort to stifle the noise.

‘Alright, alright,’ Mr. Moon says, waving away the hysteria, gaze darting behind him in worry of drawing the attention of Mr. Kim. ‘Show me what you did over the holidays, Hyuck.’ Donghyuck passes over the now-slightly wrinkled sheets of paper in his hands, his teacher scanning the composition, humming as he reads the notes. He watches nervously as Mr. Moon’s eyes run over the paper, flipping through the sheets, and he lets out a sigh of relief when the man’s lips finally, finally curl up into a smile.

‘Did I do alright?’ Donghyuck’s hands are a little clammy, and he wrings them behind his back. He’s not going to admit he slaved over the thing for the entirety of the holidays, scrapping draft after draft after draft because it just didn’t sound  _right_  enough. He’s also not going to admit that he rejected going out with his friends a few times to work on the thing. He’s  _definitely_  not going to admit why he kept turning down outings, despite Chenle’s whiny, incessant pleading the whole summer holidays – that’s a secret for another time.

‘More than alright,’ Mr. Moon replies, beaming at the composition in front of him.

Donghyuck slumps against the wall beside him. He thinks he can hear angels. ‘It’s a bit experimental –’

‘You’re always experimental, Donghyuck. But I think it really pays off. Your melody’s good, really good. Interesting use of harmonics, but it works really well with the syncopation. Just –’ Mr. Moon’s pointing at the composition now, running his finger along the music from the seventh bar to the tenth, ‘– work on figuring out your dynamics. It’s almost essential to have them in music, but you know that already.’

Donghyuck curses under his breath. ‘I think I forgot to put them in this draft.’

‘How many did you write?’ Mr. Moon asks, flipping through the composition again.

‘A few.’

‘Give me a number.’ The sound of paper sliding against paper fills the air between them.

Donghyuck shifts on his feet, sighing. ‘Thirteen.’

Mr. Moon’s hands freeze in place. He laughs, a gentle sound of wonder that makes Donghyuck’s heart coo, shaking his head. ‘I’m honestly impressed. Not many kids would put that much effort into schoolwork during the holidays.’

‘It’s not just schoolwork,’ Donghyuck replies, bowing his head a little when Mr. Moon passes the composition back. ‘I really do enjoy music, honestly.’

‘I know. You make it quite obvious, Mr. Lee,’ says Mr. Moon, teasing a little, and it makes Donghyuck blush. Though, it really  _is_ obvious as to how much Donghyuck adores studying music, how much he adores music in general. He’s loved music before he could even breathe – Taeyong tells him sometimes about how he remembers when their mother was pregnant with baby Donghyuck. He’d start moving in her stomach whenever she played music, no matter the song.  _She had to use my Walkman headphones_ , Taeyong had sighed, shovelling food onto Donghyuck’s plate.  _But you’d still shuffle around anyways. Brat._  And then he’d laughed, ruffling Donghyuck’s hair as he nagged him about some stain on his shirt or a pen mark on his cheek.

His older brother has a point, though. Donghyuck can’t imagine his life without music. Music, to him, comes easier than breathing.

Though, there’s one thing that comes easier than music.

‘But Donghyuck,’ Mr. Moon starts again, mouth folding itself into a timid kind of frown, ‘I was wondering. You’ve never really put lyrics with your composition before. And the one’s you’ve put here are really lyrical, they flow wonderfully with the melody, but… I have to admit, I’m a little worried –’

‘Donghyuck!

Donghyuck turns in the direction of his name, shouted down the hallway, almost pulling a neck muscle in the process. His heart can’t help but stutter in his chest. He’d know that voice anywhere.

It’s Mark Lee, standing outside the door of one of the classrooms a few rooms down, arm leant against the doorframe, waving. His uniform’s immaculate, shoes shining and badges gleaming in the morning sunlight, not even sweaty when wearing a blazer in the summer, tie knotted perfectly in a way that makes Donghyuck grip his own self-consciously. His hair is swept perfectly to the side, eyes sparkling, his smile a bow that shoots arrows straight into Donghyuck’s heart.

He’s written so many songs about that smile.

‘I’ll let you go now,’ Mr. Moon whispers, something knowing in his expression as Donghyuck makes eye contact with him. ‘Feel free to send me anything else you’re working on. And if you just want to talk about anything, too.’ He pats Donghyuck on the shoulder. ‘You’ve worked hard.’

‘Thanks, Mr. Moon,’ Donghyuck says back, unable to stop the way his chest aches at the gesture. Mr. Moon begins to walk back to the CAPA staffroom (from where, if Donghyuck’s hearing isn’t mistaken, he can hear quiet sobbing). Donghyuck turns away from Mark to wave at Mr. Moon’s retreating form, taking a deep breath before jogging down the hallway, to where Mark’s standing.

‘Hey man,’ Donghyuck says, schooling his face into his best, cocky grin. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Morning class just ended,’ Mark says cheerfully, still leaning against the doorframe. ‘Dude, I haven’t seen you in _weeks_. Where’ve you been all holidays?’

‘Around,’ replies Donghyuck, because it sounds cooler than saying  _holed up in my room whilst my brother begs me to come out and look at some grass for at least a minute_.

Mark laughs at that, shaking his head as he pushes himself off the doorframe. ‘Great to see that you haven’t changed, Hyuckie,’ he says as he rolls his eyes, and the movement is so carefree, the nickname so sickeningly sweet to hear that Donghyuck has to look away to calm himself down. ‘Though,’ Mark continues, voice softening, ‘I did really miss seeing you.’

And oh,  _oh_ , does Donghyuck’s heart sing at those words. God, how he wishes it didn’t.

‘Good one, Canada,’ Donghyuck snorts, hoping he can hide the blush on his cheeks and the tremble in his voice. ‘Did you practice that one in the mirror?’

‘Is it really too much to say that I missed you?’ Mark asks, stepping towards Donghyuck, close enough to touch now and it  _hurts_. ‘You’re one of my best friends, and I barely saw you, man.’

‘Thought you were going to be busy studying.’

‘Wasn’t busy when I asked you and the guys out those few times.’

Donghyuck swallows. ‘ _I_  was busy then.’

‘With what?’ There’s something tense in Mark’s voice, and Donghyuck prays to every deity he can think of that they’re not going to start arguing on the first day back to school.

Donghyuck bites his lip, exhaling out his nose. ‘Look, Mark, I was –’

There’s a massive crash, the sound of something heavy falling down from within the classroom Mark and Donghyuck are standing outside, followed by a low, pained groan and panicked chatter. Mark pokes his head back in, sighing as he sees what’s going on. ‘Lucas,  _really?_  On the first day back? Already?’ The person inside (Lucas, Donghyuck thinks) lets out another groan, and Mark buries his face in his hands.

Out of curiosity, Donghyuck walks behind and around Mark, stepping into the classroom. He’s met with the sight of one of the tallest guys he’s ever seen at his school lying on the ground, shirt wrinkled and missing a shoe which only serves to accentuate the holes in his left sock, bared for the world to see. Donghyuck sees something move out of the corner of his eye, eyes widening when he sees a black school shoe hanging by its laces from the moving ceiling fan, making slow circles in the air as the fan spins round and round. Looking back down, he can see another boy shaking who he presumes to be Lucas by the shoulders, wailing incoherently.

‘Um,’ starts Donghyuck, walking towards the K.O.’d boy and his panicking friend and kneeling beside them, partly because he’s legitimately concerned but mostly because he wants to avoid confrontation with Mark, ‘Is he okay?’

‘He should be, but he’s just  _stupid_ ,’ Lucas’ friend sighs, continuing to shake the taller boy, lying down, eyes closed. ‘I told him trying to do a triple lutz whilst standing on a table is an activity for the jobless, but he told me,’ and at this the boy deepens his voice, ‘ _Jungwoo, my homie, if you think about it, doing jumps on ice are basically like jumping in rollerblades, but with freaky knife shoes instead of rollerblades. And on ice. So technically it’s easier if you do it on land. So, like, watch this, bro._ ’ Jungwoo makes a noise of frustration, flinging himself onto the ground next to Lucas. ‘He doesn’t even know how to rollerblade? Or ice skate?’ Donghyuck’s dumb head supplies the lovely fact  _Mark Lee can ice skate_ , and he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. ‘I hate Year Twelve. Kill me. My best friend got replaced with a crackhead.’

‘He was  _always_  a crackhead,’ Mark supplies helpfully from the doorway. ‘I’ll go get the GA to try get his shoe down. If I’m late, tell the teacher where I went?’ Jungwoo grunts affirmatively. ‘Should I get the nurse or something?’ A noise of disagreement. ‘Alright. Mark starts walking out the door, but just before he goes he turns back again. ‘Hey, Hyuck?’

Donghyuck looks up from Lucas’ now-twitching form. ‘Yeah?’

‘I’ll see you at recess, at least?’ Mark looks so sweet and  _hopeful_. It’s too early in the morning for this, Donghyuck thinks.

‘Maybe.’

‘That’s good enough for me.’ Mark smiles at him again, waving as he walks out of sight, and Donghyuck can feel his heart bleed from the new cracks made in it.

Donghyuck wonders what the hell he’s doing still sitting in the classroom. He takes out his phone to check the time – a minute or two until class starts. He supposes he should get his bag from where it’s still lying outside the CAPA staff room, and then make his way upstairs to Advanced English –

A hand curls around his wrist. Donghyuck’s a little too tired to freak out about the sudden contact, so he decides to just look down and see what the fuck is up. It’s Lucas’ hand, and the first thing Donghyuck can think is that it’s  _huge_. It’s eclipsing his own hand, and the slight roughness of the other boy’s hand is disconcertingly, worryingly nice. Donghyuck doesn’t even know this guy’s last name, but he’s already gotten to the hand-holding stage. Why is his life like this. ‘Uh,’ Donghyuck starts, ‘What are you…?’

‘Is this heaven?’ whispers Lucas, peering into Donghyuck’s eyes, leaning in with a dazed expression on his face. Donghyuck’s a little shocked how big his eyes are, limpid and disconcertingly honest.

‘What?’ Lucas hasn’t let go of his wrist yet, tugging on it a little as he sits up, eyes widening as he takes in Donghyuck’s face. His mouth falls open, other hand coming up dangerously close to Donghyuck’s cheek.

‘It has to be. You look like an angel.’

Donghyuck’s never been called an angel before.

The bell rings suddenly, a shrill sound that shocks Donghyuck upright. God, he hates the school bell so much. It’s so stressful, and it always reminds him how long it takes for him to pack up, making him the last one into every class he has and it’s so _annoying_  when he’s late…

Oh.

Donghyuck jerks his hand out of Lucas’ grip, stumbling up, and  _sprints_  out the door, as fast as his legs can carry him. He’s too busy speeding away in a panic, half from the bell, half from the warmth that still lingers across his knuckles, to notice how he’s left his composition on the floor, where he was sitting next to Lucas.

 

…

 

Renjun puts his sandwich down. ‘So you’re saying,’ he muses, ‘that some Year Twelve called Lucas jumped off a table trying to do a fancy ice skating jump in one of the Lower B-Block rooms, lost his shoe to a ceiling fan, and called you an angel?’

‘Yeah, that’s about right.’ Donghyuck leans against the wall of the classroom they’re sitting in. ‘It was  _really_  fucking weird.’

‘Probably,’ Renjun says, airily, ‘but more importantly, do you think it was  _gay_?’

Donghyuck splutters. ‘That was  _not_  gay.’

‘He told you that you were an  _angel_.’

‘I’m pretty sure angels don’t really have genders or sexualities.’

‘Say that to Jisung’s raunchy SHINee asianfanfic.net multichapter angst with a happy ending fic,’ Renjun sighs. ‘But seriously. You haven’t liked anyone since Mark back in our junior years.’ Donghyuck still does, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that. If Renjun knows, that means Jaemin knows, which  _definitely_  means that Mark knows. And last time that Mark knew, it didn’t end well for anyone. ‘Like, I love him, and he’s the sweetest guy,  _and_  our group wouldn’t be complete without him, but sometimes he’s  _such_  a hetero.’

‘Why would you say something so controversial yet so  _brave_?’

‘Someone has to. Hyuck, we both know he’s a great friend and all, but come on.’ Renjun picks his sandwich back up, taking a bite into it. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s straighter than –’

‘Straighter than Jaemin before he met you in junior year, I know.’

Renjun nods, sagely. ‘The truth, the truth and nothing but the truth.’

‘Okay, okay. Hetero Mark in junior year era aside, get this.’ Donghyuck says, frowning at the peeling paint on the wall. ‘I’m not interested in this Lucas guy. I probably won’t even see him again.’

‘Donghyuck. We go to the same school as him.’

‘So? I can always close my eyes.’

‘ _Hyuck_.’

Donghyuck taps his chin, in fake-thought. ‘It’s, what did you say,  _the truth, the truth and nothing but the truth_ , Renjun.’

‘Smartass.’ Renjun flips him off, taking another bite of his sandwich. ‘I’m just saying, getting told something like  _that_  by a dude is low-key high-key gay culture.’

‘It’s not gay if he hit his head beforehand,’ Donghyuck sniffs. ‘And seriously. He was  _way_  too touchy for someone I’ve never met before. Not my type.’ It’s totally Donghyuck’s type. He loves gentle touches and cuddles and hand holding and kisses (or at least the idea of them – he’s never kissed anyone before. He wants to, lies in bed imagining what it’d be like, dreams about it sometimes but wakes up before the boys in his dreams press their lips against his). But the older he gets, the harder it gets to open up. The harder it gets to trust warm, rough hands and wide eyes.

That, and his heart already belongs to someone else. Has for a long time, now.

‘We get it,’ Renjun says, rolling his eyes, ‘you have trust issues. Not Mr. Ceiling Fan Fiasco’s fault that your first love was straight, though.’

Donghyuck winces. ‘Shut the fuck  _up_ , dude, it still  _hurts_.’

‘I know it hurts. But, honestly, I’m telling you as your friend. It’s definitely time to move on from the past.’ Renjun stretches his legs, neatly finishing off his sandwich. ‘It’s been years, and I love you both, but if I was going to be honest with you? The way you and Mark fight sometimes, I think that even if Mark was gay, or even if you were a girl, you two would have never worked out.’

Donghyuck wants to get upset. He wants to Heimlich manoeuvre Renjun so that he throws up his sandwich. He wants to do something juvenile, like walk out of the classroom and scream in the middle of the school oval. Most of all, he just wants to prove Renjun wrong, to get Mark to look at him the way he looks at Mark. But Renjun’s right. Renjun’s always right about these things. ‘That’s a shame,’ Donghyuck laughs, and he hates how forced it is, hates how shaky his voice gets, ‘I’d make the  _cutest_  girl.’ Maybe if he was a girl Mark could look over all the things that aren’t right between the two of them and love him back a little bit. Mark’s always had a soft spot for pretty girls.

‘You really would. Remember that one time you went in drag for the school musical two years ago and everyone ate that shit up?’ Renjun checks his phone, frowning when he sees the time. ‘Wait. You know where everyone else is?’

Donghyuck shrugs. ‘Not sure. Mark mentioned he’d sit with us, but he probably got caught up with some kind of Prefect duty. I saw Jeno and Jaemin in Advanced English, but I can’t remember what they had after that. Any idea where Chenle and Jisung might be?’

‘Chenle’s probably off doing his own thing,’ Renjun murmurs, texting someone on his phone, thumbs flying furiously. ‘And you know Jisung. Wherever Chenle is, he follows.’

‘Like a baby chicken does its mother.’

‘That’s some real Oedipus complex that Jisung has, then,’ a voice rings from the doorway, and it’s Jaemin, striding through with those long legs of his. Jeno follows quickly behind him, waving bashfully. ‘Sorry we’re late, got caught up in Maths.’ Jaemin takes the seat next to Renjun, kissing his boyfriend lightly on the cheek. Renjun flushes cherry-blossom pink, and Donghyuck watches as Jeno’s eyes dart away from them, head down as he takes the seat next beside Donghyuck.

‘It’s all good,’ Renjun says, waving the apology away. ‘You’re here now, and that’s what matters.’ Donghyuck sneaks a look at Jeno, who’s busied himself with his phone. There’s a frown on his friend’s face, a thin one which stretches the corners of his mouth unnaturally. He’s not even doing anything on his phone, Donghyuck sees, just swiping along the screen of his phone aimlessly.

Oh, Jeno. Sweet, harmless Jeno with his soft heart. Jeno’s got it worse than Donghyuck ever could. Donghyuck nudges the boy with an elbow. ‘Yo. Jeno. Wanna go with me to the, uh,  _canteen_?’ Jeno looks up at him, blinking with wide eyes, head tilting to the side. ‘Kinda feeling peckish.’

At that moment, Mark chooses to bound through the door, a bright smile on his face. Donghyuck feels his breath hitch, and Jeno’s eyes soften. Donghyuck knows what they’re saying.  _I know. Let’s get out of here_. ‘Hey guys!’ Mark chirps, swinging his bag onto the table next to Jaemin. ‘What’s poppin’?’

‘Donghyuck and I were about to go to the canteen,’ Jeno says, standing up quickly, patting his back pocket to make their exit look more convincing. ‘Be right back, guys.’ He tucks in his chair neatly, linking his hands with Donghyuck as they walk out the door, jogging a little, pulling Donghyuck along. Donghyuck’s only able to get a glimpse of Mark’s slack-jawed, almost hurt expression before they begin to run down the hallway, only stopping once they’ve rounded the corner.

Donghyuck can’t help but laugh, snorting as he sees Jeno’s face crinkle into that signature smile of his, eyes curved and grin stretched wide. ‘When do you think they’ll realise that we never buy anything from the canteen?’

‘No idea,’ Jeno replies, cheerfully, ‘but we better make the most of the time we have, shouldn’t we?’

‘We should. So, spill what’s on your mind.’

Jeno frowns, leading Donghyuck down the stairs of C-Block, to the Music rooms, where they always go when they have these talks. ‘Shouldn’t we start about you being emo about Mark again?’

‘That’s old news,’ Donghyuck says, lightly punching Jeno in the shoulder with his free hand. ‘C’mon. What’s got you down today?’

‘The usual.’

‘Can’t handle a little bit of boy-on-boy action, can you?’ Donghyuck says, teasing, but something aches in his chest at the way the light in Jeno’s eyes dim when they make contact with his, even as Jeno tries to smile back. ‘I’m sorry, man. You know I run my mouth.’

‘No, no, it’s okay. It’s what makes you  _you_ , Hyuck. Don’t feel like you have to censor yourself around me.’ Jeno squeezes his hand gently, and sweet Lord is Donghyuck fond of his friend. ‘I’ll just roast you extra hard later, yeah?’

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, following Jeno as they walk to the Music rooms. ‘You couldn’t roast me even if you had an industrial oven set to a hundred and eighty degrees fan-forced.’

‘Watch yourself, man.’ Jeno chuckles a little bit at the quip, the noise dying quickly, replaced with a sigh. ‘But yeah. I thought it’d get better as the years went by? I thought I’d get used to it. Like, you think it’s enough to see the person you like happy with someone else. It’s enough to see them smile. He still walks with me to school, you know. He still texts me every morning with a little “good morning!”, and he always puts a heart next to it.’ Jeno stops once they get to one of the practice rooms, a smaller one that never gets used because the piano inside isn’t quite tuned properly.

Donghyuck mournfully releases his friend’s hand, opening the door, letting Jeno in first before closing it with a  _click_. ‘If I wasn’t worried about encouraging you,’ Donghyuck sighs, ‘I’d say that’s some  _real_  gay shit.’

‘I know!’ Jeno throws up his hands, exasperated. ‘And it’s worse because he  _is_  gay. And he’s been in a happy relationship for  _years_  now and I still can’t get over him.’ Donghyuck sits down on the carpeted floor, patting at the space to his right. Jeno takes a seat beside him, pressing their thighs together, linking their hands again. ‘He’s just so, you know.’

‘He’s Jaemin. And you love him for it.’

Jeno sighs, leaning his head against Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘I wish I didn’t.’

‘It’s okay to,’ Donghyuck murmurs, lips brushing against Jeno’s hair. ‘It’s not good for you, but it’s not like you can help it. Some people you just don’t get over.’ He runs his thumb in circles over the back of Jeno’s palm. ‘It’s not like you can’t fall for someone else, right?’ Donghyuck’s a little confused when Jeno tenses against him. He worries that he said the wrong thing – didn’t Jeno  _want_  to stop liking Jaemin? Wouldn’t it be a good thing if he liked someone else, then? He squeezes Jeno’s hand, and his friend squeezes back, the slight panic in Donghyuck’s chest loosening a bit.

‘You’re not wrong, I guess.’ Jeno says, softly, and Donghyuck’s worried as to how strained his voice sounds, even when he’s speaking so quietly. ‘It would’ve been alright, just having feelings for him.’

‘ _Just_  having feelings for him?’

‘It started in the holidays,’ Jeno says, voice a little wobbly, and it makes Donghyuck let go of his hand so he can swing it over Jeno’s shoulders, taking Jeno’s hand again with his other one. ‘You never came to our meetups. I’m sort of glad you weren’t there, I was so  _pathetic_  –’

‘Jeno, you’re  _not_ pathetic.’

‘– but I wish you were because I had to see him and Renjun together the entire time, and Mark was always going off with Chenle and Jisung whenever we went out, and Jaemin wouldn’t stop  _smiling_  the whole time and I couldn’t stop taking photos of him and  _obviously_  I had to send them to Renjun as well because. You know, they’re  _dating_  and everything and I’m  _clearly not_   _dating_ Jaemin and why would half my camera roll be pictures of him if it’s not for sending to his fucking  _boyfriend?_ ’ Jeno wipes his face on his sleeve, the beginning of frustrated tears threatening to spill out. ‘And it’s pathetic, because Renjun’s so nice and pretty and so good with art and his hands are so nice and he’s  _perfect_  for Jaemin and they look so damn good together and they’re so good to each other as well and I can’t even be happy for them because I’m a  _selfish bitch_!’

‘Woah,’ Donghyuck says, pressing his cheek against the crown of Jeno’s head, heart twinging when he feels the shaky sobs that start to run through Jeno’s body. ‘It’s not selfish to have feelings. You can’t blame yourself for liking someone. Don’t blame yourself for being a  _person_ , Jeno.’

Jeno sniffs back a sob, nudging his way further into Donghyuck’s arms. ‘I  _am_  selfish, Hyuck. I thought I could be okay with just liking Jaemin. I’ve liked him since we were, like,  _babies_.’ Jeno laughs at this, a hysterical sound that hurts Donghyuck to hear. ‘I thought, hey, you know, it’s fine if I love him forever. I’m used to it, you know. Comes easier than breathing, sometimes.’  _I know that feeling_ , Donghyuck thinks.  _God, do I know it_. ‘But that wasn’t enough for me. Won’t ever be enough for me. Wanna know why?’

Donghyuck presses a gentle kiss against Jeno’s temple. ‘Go on.’

‘Liking Jaemin wasn’t enough, Hyuck,’ Jeno says, and his voice is choked up, raspy from his tears. ‘It wasn’t enough to be in love with my best friend, because I had to go and fall for Renjun as well.’ And he bursts into tears, unable to help it, hiding his face in Donghyuck’s chest as he cries. Donghyuck lets the knowledge sink in, heart feels like it’s dropped out of his chest as he realises the gravity of the situation. He can’t begin to imagine how Jeno feels.

‘It’s not okay,’ Donghyuck whispers, wiping the tears off Jeno’s cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I’m not going to try pretend it’s okay. But it gets better, alright? It won’t hurt as much after a while.’ Jeno hiccups, coughing miserably into Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you earlier. I’m so, so sorry.’

Donghyuck thinks it’s unfair that someone like Jeno, who always greets the cleaners in the mornings, who never fails to help out the juniors even when he has a class to go to next, who adopted three cats even though he has a cat allergy, has no luck in love. He wonders why life isn’t kinder to such a good person. It’s frustrating that Jeno has to deal with this, with his feelings for two people, two of his best friends, frustrating that Jeno’s expected to smile through it like there’s nothing wrong. It’s even more frustrating that Donghyuck can’t do anything for him, can’t do anything except steal him away during their breaks and hold him tight. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ says Jeno, and his voice is just so  _small_  and it’s breaking Donghyuck’s heart all over again. ‘It’s not your fault, Hyuck. Never will be.’

‘Sort of wish it was. Then I could do something for you. Balance it out, make it right for you.’

Jeno slides a hand into his own pocket, rummaging around and pulling out a crinkled tissue. He dabs at the corners of his eyes, blowing his nose. ‘That sounds pretty  _gay_ , dude.’

Donghyuck feels his soul leave his body. He moves his hands to Jeno’s throat, wrapping his fingers around his friend’s neck and squeezing lightly. ‘Fuck  _off_ ,’ he hisses, whilst Jeno yelps, flapping his fists against Donghyuck’s chest.

‘You know,’ Jeno says, once he’s fended off Donghyuck’s assault, ‘I really do love you.’ He smiles at Donghyuck, eyes puffy and cheeks tear-streaked, but it’s a smile nonetheless, and it warms something in Donghyuck’s chest.

‘Awh, you. Come here before I choke you again.’ Donghyuck stretches out his arms, ready for the best cuddle session of his life.

And that’s when the door to the practice room opens.

It’s an ungraceful moment. The door slams into Donghyuck’s knee, and he thinks he breaks the sound barrier with his subsequent screaming. Jeno falls over, face planting into Donghyuck’s crotch, and when he claws his way upright his head knocks into Donghyuck’s chin. Donghyuck ends up shoving Jeno into the nearby piano, still screaming, and Jeno grabs onto the piano keys, yelping in horror when the piano lid decides to fall closed against the back of his hands

‘I,’ the figure at the door says, in horror as he sees the crumpled figures of the two whimpering boys beneath him, ‘am so sorry.’

Donghyuck groans, cheek pressed against the floor. He swears to God he’s going to rip the balls off of the guy who barged into the practice room, turning over and opening his mouth to say something when a familiar hand grabs his own, pulling him upright.

It’s Lucas.

‘I’m so,  _so_  sorry,’ Lucas continues, Donghyuck looking behind him to see Jeno mournfully nursing the skin just beneath his knuckles. ‘I really didn’t see you there, I just wanted to give back something you’d left and Mr. Moon told me you frequent the music rooms so I thought you’d be in here and I really didn’t mean to slam a door into you, will you ever forgive me? I’ll give you my firstborn child. Is my firstborn enough? But I really want shared custody, because I honestly don’t think I could bear to give up my actual chid? Is that okay with you?’

Donghyuck can’t really comprehend all the English being thrown at him right now. ‘What?’

‘Jungwoo tells me I talk a lot when I’m nervous,’ Lucas continues, wide eyes blinking rapidly at Donghyuck. ‘I think it’s because the more I talk the more people get confused and so it makes whatever I did wrong fade into the background like it’s on a magnificent steed, galloping away across the horizon?’

‘Makes sense,’ Donghyuck replies, completely confounded. ‘Hey, Jeno. You alright there, though?’ Jeno weakly throws Donghyuck a thumbs up. Donghyuck gives him two thumbs-ups back and turns back to Lucas. ‘What are you here for again?’

‘You left something in my class this morning,’ Lucas says, and Donghyuck pales when he sees the sheets of paper held in Lucas’ hand. ‘I wanted to talk to you about it.’

Donghyuck can’t think. ‘Mark’s in your class, right? Why didn’t you hand it to him?’ Everyone and their mother know that Mark’s in the same friendship group as Donghyuck. Their little squad’s been infamous since Donghyuck brought everyone in it to the principal’s office in Year 8 when he climbed on the library roof to sing Sia’s  _Chandelier_  after rigging a handheld microphone to the school’s PA system.

‘You wouldn’t have wanted him to see it.’ Lucas’ eyes are soft but unforgiving, hiding steel, and Donghyuck knows the truth is written all over his face. ‘I…I read it by accident. Not by accident, because I definitely read it intentionally, but I didn’t realise how private it was until I was halfway through reading it.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. I just. Have this back,’ Lucas says hastily, thrusting the printed papers towards Donghyuck. ‘It’s yours. I shouldn’t hold onto it anymore.’

Donghyuck’s fingers reach for the paper, automatically, the quickened pace of his heartbeat that he barely noticed slowing when he runs his fingertips along the creases of the pages. He looks up again, eyes making contact with Lucas’s lips, the way he’s nervously chewing on his bottom one. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ Lucas runs a hand through his hair, looking off to the side. ‘I slipped a note in there for later. I’m not the best with words, but I wanted to say something, you know? It’s not my place, but.’ He flaps a large hand in Donghyuck’s direction. ‘Yeah. I’ll just get going now.’ He bobs his head down, like he’s about to bow but reconsiders halfway. It’s horribly endearing to watch. Donghyuck reminds himself not to get attached – he doesn’t know Lucas. He doesn’t  _need_  to know him. He’s got his friends and himself and that’s enough.

‘See you!’ Jeno waves, cross-legged on the floor as Lucas strides out the door, head down and hand in the pockets of his pointedly non-uniform windbreaker.

It’s oddly hard to tear his eyes from Lucas’ retreating form. Donghyuck watches his figure break into a run, darting around the corner of the hallway. His composition feels heavy in his hands.

Jeno stands up, coming up to lean against Donghyuck’s shoulder. ‘Lucas seems nice.’

‘I guess,’ Donghyuck says. He can’t quite get the slant of Lucas’ eyes, wide and brown and honest, out of his head. ‘Wait. Are you alright though?’

The bell rings, shrill against their ears. Donghyuck winces as he feels Jeno jolt against him. ‘I will be.’ Jeno presses his cheek against Donghyuck’s, and he feels the older boy mouth a kiss in his direction. ‘What do you have now?’

‘Pretty sure I have a free.’

‘Oh, nice. So do I.’ Jeno turns to him, properly, and there’s a funny quirk to his lips. ‘Let’s go get our bags first.’

‘First?’ Donghyuck grins, feigning obliviousness. ‘What could we possibly want to do next?’

‘Woolies run?’

 _Hell yeah_. ‘Woolies run it is.’  

It’s only after they’ve returned from Woolworths, where Donghyuck’s bought his body weight in 50% off  _Connoisseur_  Matcha ice cream, when Donghyuck remembers that Lucas had left a message for him in his composition. He’s spooning the ice cream into his mouth as Jeno inhales Cheetos, Russian hard bass blasting from Jeno’s phone when the realisation hits, and it almost makes Donghyuck drop his shitty plastic spoon into the grass they’re sitting on. ‘Wait,’ he says, nudging Jeno’s head off his thigh as he looks around for his backpack. ‘I just need to get something.’

‘Oh?’

Donghyuck manages to pull the composition out of his bag, shaking it roughly. A folded piece of lined paper falls out of it, a tiny piece of washi tape hanging off it where Lucas must have lightly taped it to his composition, and he picks it up. ‘Got it. Resume your previous endeavours.’

Jeno shrugs, going back to stuffing Cheetos into his mouth. Donghyuck can’t help but feel nervous, something odd rattling around in his chest as he unfolds the piece of paper. It shouldn’t be too big a deal. It’s just a piece of paper, after all. Worst comes to worst is that Lucas has pranked him, or made fun of his music, and if either of them happen then Donghyuck will just deal out double the retribution. He wonders if Lucas has allergies. Nut allergies would be easy to deal with.

Once the paper’s completely unfolded, Donghyuck begins to read. Lucas’ handwriting is neat, a gently curved print that’s the epitome of legible. It’s nice to look at, Donghyuck thinks. He should probably get to actually comprehending the words.

 _Donghyuck_ , it starts.  _I want to say sorry for reading this. I know I probably said it in person, but I wanted to say it again, just in case._

Alright, Donghyuck thinks. Going well so far.

_I don’t know you. I don’t know if I’ll ever know you. But what I just read is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever read in my entire life, and I might have a minor concussion right now but it doesn’t mean I’m completely stupid. I think my ATAR’s safe, at the very least._

_But anyone with eyes could see that you’re hurting. I see you around sometimes and you’ve always got this tiny frown on like you’ve left the stove on at home but you can’t go home for another twelve hours so you’ve resigned yourself to having your house on fire and no worldly possessions left to your name. You’re hurting, and it looks like you’ve tried to make peace with the pain, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt anymore._

Donghyuck vaguely wonders if Lucas is a perpetual crackhead, but then thinks a little deeper and wonders if he's actually really some kind of genius instead. There’s something ramble-y and whimsical about the way he talks and writes, but he’s oddly precise. Strangely, dangerously sweet, as earnest and honest as his eyes are.

_After I read your composition, I realised what it was. And I’m sorry again, sorry that I know so much about you now without getting to know you first. I’m sorry I violated your privacy like that._

_I’ll just say this though – I wish you weren’t hurting. I remember the first time I saw you, on top of the library roof hitting all the high notes in Sia’s ‘Chandelier’. You looked like you were having the time of your life. I’ve never seen someone smile that wide. You looked like you didn’t need anything else except yourself and the music._

_It was beautiful, and_

The rest of the sentence is scribbled out, hastily. Donghyuck blinks, numbly, taking the time to digest the words on the page. He knew he was infamous, but he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be remembered as much more than a joke.

But he isn’t a joke, not to Lucas, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 _There’s a lot of pain in the world, but there’s a lot of beautiful things too. I hope you’re surrounded by the beautiful things._   _I hope you know you’re one of them – I think you kind of inspired me throughout the last few years. I remember wanting to be as bold, as unashamedly myself as you are. I hope I can be a fraction of the boy I saw that day._

_I hope Mark realises what he’s missing out on._

_If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ve always got time on my hands for you. It’d be great to make a new friend._

A friend. Huh.

Donghyuck thinks back to the warmth of Lucas’ hands, his gentleness and honesty. His first thought is that they’re completely different, his second that the boy Lucas has in his memories is nowhere near the boy Donghyuck is today. Where Donghyuck hides generosity and consideration behind a veneer of bravado, Lucas wears his heart on his sleeve, almost dazzlingly so. Donghyuck thinks too much, hates confrontation, will lie with a smile if it means others will smile too. Lucas seems upfront, thoughtfully carefree, optimistic, open.

Too open.

‘Hyuck.’ Donghyuck looks down, to see Jeno looking up at him, brow furrowed a little. ‘Duckie?’

‘Hm?’ Jeno’s doing that thing with his face where he looks constipated, but it really means that he wants to say something but doesn’t know what words he should be using. Donghyuck wonders what he wants to ask.

‘You kind of look stressed.’

“Stressed” is, upon some level of reflection, what Donghyuck thinks is an understatement. He doesn’t know what to do with the letter. Doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with  _Lucas_. All of a sudden someone he’s only ever really paid attention to in passing knows one of his most deeply-repressed secrets and he doesn’t even know if he should be concerned or not, and that’s even  _more_  confusing because as soft as Donghyuck can get with his friends, he’s not just going to trust anyone who tries to walk into his life because they have a nice face and a way with words.

Maybe he should just forget about it.

Jeno pokes Donghyuck in the ribs. ‘Hyuckie. All good?’

‘Yeah. All good.’ If Jeno notices the tightness to Donghyuck’s smile, he says nothing.

Yeah, Donghyuck thinks he should forget about it. He doesn’t have the time to make new friends anyways.

Okay, maybe he does, but he doesn’t have the time to deal with when people inevitably get tired of him because he’s got nothing to offer, when they realise the snark and bravery is all an act. He doesn’t need to be in love to have his heart broken.

As he folds the letter back into a neat rectangle, sliding it into the embroidered pocket on the chest of his school shirt, Donghyuck decides that he just won’t engage with Lucas. It’s fine. The guy probably had some kind of ulterior motive – maybe he was looking for someone to pass the time with because he was bored (since the  _Chandelier_  incident, Donghyuck's been the school's figurehead of knowing how to stretch the limits without getting suspended), maybe he wanted someone to bounce assignment ideas off. Maybe he wanted Donghyuck’s lunch money or something cliché like that.

Honestly? It’s not like Lucas really wants to be his friend. He probably just feels sorry for him. Donghyuck wouldn’t want to be friends with himself. He wonders how his friends group does it, sometimes. It’s probably because they’ve known each other so long, they probably feel obliged to let Donghyuck tag along.

He’s just going to go on with his life, do what needs to be done. He’ll go to school and attend his classes, hang around his friends and do some odd jobs for Mr. Moon on the side. Maybe he’ll help Johnny, the school’s general assistant, some time with IT stuff every now and then. Johnny always likes to give him Tim Tams. What a guy.

Then he’ll go home, help Taeyong out with the bakery, do his homework, work on some compositions until he can’t make out the notes he’s writing from the paper in front of him, and then he’ll go to sleep, wake up, and repeat until he graduates and goes off into the world to do fuck knows what. He’ll walk the school corridors truly, fully not giving any shits.

And if, and when he notices the hurt look on Lucas’ face when he walks past him, pointedly ignoring him, Donghyuck won’t let it get to him.

It would probably be a trick of the light, after all.


	2. i'm the greatest star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> light warning for more major angst than i anticipated, this will probably be the worst of it tho!!  
> tw for minor character death, implied self-harm, allusions to mental health units

‘Auditions are up.’

Donghyuck almost drops the ukulele he’s holding. ‘What?’ It’s only the second week of school. The school’s never been this efficient in getting the sign up sheets up this fast before.

‘Yeah, I know, right,’ says Jeno, heaving a little, having obviously run from God knows where. ‘Are you going to put your name down or what?’

‘Is the sky blue?’

Jeno rolls his eyes. ‘You do know that the sky isn’t actually blue, and that’s just how the human eye perceives it?’

Donghyuck hisses, placing the ukulele down gently on a nearby table as he gets up from the chair he was sitting on. ‘Fuck you, I dropped science.’ He flips off Jeno and the older boy sticks his tongue out at him. ‘Lemme just pack up here – I’ll be out in a bit.’

Jeno leans against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. He looks relaxed like this, carefree, less of a furrow in his brow than there normally is. It’s a good look on him. Donghyuck looks away, tidying up after himself before swinging his schoolbag over his shoulders. Jeno turns to him, smiling. ‘Ready to go?’

‘Yeah. Let’s.’

The audition sheet is pinned up neatly on the noticeboard right outside the CAPA staff room. Next to it is the poster for the chosen musical, the bold yellow letters of the title screaming confirmation.

‘ _Funny Girl_.’ Jeno muses, tracing the title with his finger. ‘The Overture’s pretty nice.’

Donghyuck nods, scanning the list of roles. ‘It’s good. There’s this one motif that pisses me off in it though.’

Jeno goes to put his name down for the violin section. ‘Which one?’ He chews at his lip a bit as he writes down his name. ‘Wait, let me guess. It’s the “Nicky Arnstein” one, isn’t it.’

‘Bingo,’ Donghyuck says, putting his own name down for vocal auditions, sheer want aching through his fingertips. God, he can’t wait for the musical. ‘It’s probably because I hate the character. Gorgeous melody but –’

‘All men do is lie?’

‘Sounds like the plot of the musical.’ Donghyuck lets his mind wander a bit, looking around the hallway. He’s sort of hungry right now. Maybe Jeno would be up for another Woolies run. ‘I wonder why it got chosen.’

Jeno shrugs. ‘Could be a Mr. Nakamoto agenda.’

At this, the CAPA staff room door creaks open, a worryingly dishevelled-looking Mr. Kim sticking his head out through the door. ‘Never,’ he hisses, voice croaky. ‘say that name again.’

‘Oh, hi, Mr. Kim!’ Jeno says, waving, clearly trying to stay positive despite Mr. Kim’s desolate state of being. ‘How was the first week of school? Mum wanted to say hello too – she said she misses seeing you.’ Donghyuck has to school down his look of confusion – he always forgets that Jeno and Mr. Kim are family friends. With Mr. Kim being a music teacher and Jeno being the school’s resident virtuoso, they keep it under wraps a little so Mr. Kim doesn’t get accused of favouritism every time Jeno gets some kind of (well-deserved, mind you) music award.

Mr. Kim rests his head against the doorframe, sighing, the door to the staff room swinging open further. ‘Tell Auntie I hello, too,’ he says, rubbing at his eyes. ‘I miss her bulgogi.’  Donghyuck is increasingly worried about the music teacher, the bags beneath his eyes more prominent than yesterday. ‘I don’t think I’ll be coming around for a while, though.’

‘Are you busy organising the musical?’ Jeno tilts his head, a paragon of innocence and charity. ‘Do you need any help again this year?’

As Mr. Kim tries (and fails to) refuse Jeno’s unfaltering support, Donghyuck takes the opportunity to look over Mr. Kim’s shoulder, taking a look at his desk. It’s in pretty much the same state as it was yesterday, messy as opposed to the pristine state it’d been in for the last four years Donghyuck had seen it in. The photos once stuck to the wall above Mr. Kim’s laptop are gone, with only little globs of Blu-Tack left to signal their absence.

Donghyuck’s struggling to remember what the photos were of. He remembers they were polaroids, but he never paid enough attention to remember who were in the photos. Or, he wonders, who _was_.

He’s _definitely_ going to bring this up with Jeno later.

‘Johnny’s already organising the stage crew, you know,’ Donghyuck hears Mr. Kim say as he tunes back into the teacher’s conversation with Jeno. ‘We won’t need them for ages, but he seemed quite keen on getting everything together soon.’

‘Johnny’s nice,’ Donghyuck supplies. ‘Sounds like him to do something like that.’

‘He’s quite nice,’ Mr. Kim says, voice surprisingly frosty, eyes narrowed. ‘Unlike some other members of staff that I know. Jeno, remind me to emotionally prepare myself for a certain someone to flirt with the school’s slutty secretary when I have to sort out funding for the musical this week.’

Jeno blinks. ‘What?’

The pieces begin to slot together in Donghyuck’s head.

‘Nothing,’ Mr. Kim says, a little too curtly to stay unnoticed by Jeno, who begins to frown. ‘Nothing at all. Now if you don’t mind me, I’ll be tidying my desk a little.’ He slinks back through the doorway, closing the door with a _click_.

‘Damn,’ Jeno whistles, quietly. ‘The breakup really hit him hard,’

A faded memory of Mr. Kim going on a coffee run one autumn morning, holding hands with a blurry figure, sharpens in Donghyuck’s mind. Mr. Kim’s raspy (tear-streaked?) voice saying _never say that name again_. ‘He was dating Mr. Nakamoto?’

Jeno tugs Donghyuck away from the sign up sheets, walking down the stairs out of B-Block. ‘They met in university, apparently. In Dongyoung’s – shit, I mean Mr. Kim’s – last year. Mr. Kim tells me Mr. Nakamoto was part of the university’s socialist group or something, and when he passed him a pen to sign a petition for letting refugees enter the country Mr. Kim dropped the pen and accidently headbutted Mr. Nakamoto in the crotch. They made up over a sloppy BJ in the bathroom next to the campus’ Subway branch.’ Jeno sighs, wistfully. ‘It was true love.’

Donghyuck shakes away the R-rated image forming in his mind with a shudder, following Jeno out to the quad. ‘Tragic, but a little too detailed a description, Jeno. I’ll never be able to sit through Modern History again without thinking about Mr. Nakamoto as the Subway BJ Man.’

‘I’m sure he can distract you with his Marxist theories and unfaltering love of Neil Faulkner.’

‘Sad, but true. Still never eating a foot-long again.’

 Donghyuck suddenly feels Jeno’s palm pressing against his chest, the other boy’s arm outstretched to stop Donghyuck in his tracks. ‘Wait. Across the quad.’ He points at a figure huddled over a picnic table, someone else sitting beside him. ‘Is that Mark?’

Donghyuck’s stomach flips over. ‘Is it?’ Donghyuck is _this_ close to sprinting away.

‘I think it is,’ Jeno says, shielding his eyes from the sun as he peers over. ‘And hey, I think he’s with Lucas.’

Well, shit.

Just as he begins to turn around, ready to make a run for it, Donghyuck hears his name _screamed_ across the quad. ‘ _DONGHYUCK LEE! HEY!_ ’ It’s Lucas, deep voice booming.

Donghyuck wants to die more than he usually does. ‘Does this mean we go over?’

‘I guess?’ Jeno grabs Donghyuck’s hand and squeezes, gently. ‘Do you want to?’

Donghyuck honestly can’t fathom _not_ wanting to go over. Logically, rationally, there’s nothing wrong. In theory, he’s just going to sit at a table with two of his nicest friends and a friendly acquaintance. Nothing stressful about that – it’ll be a Bros being Dudes moment with four dudes who are just bros. Donghyuck has absolutely nothing to worry about.

‘Sure,’ he says. His chest tightens the moment he the words leave his mouth.

Jeno gives him a wry smile, swinging their arms together as they walk. ‘Well, this’ll be fun.’

It’s going to be anything _but_ fun. Lucas is going to look at him with those horribly hopeful eyes of his, eyes that Donghyuck has to tear his gaze away from because they’re so threateningly nice and inviting. And then he’s going to look at him with that one hurt expression of his that makes him look like a puppy locked outside in the rain.

God, Donghyuck is a _monster_.

When they get to the table, Mark’s hideous black bowl cut comes into clear view. Mark turns around, waving. His ridiculously curved eyebrows look like they’re about to flap off his forehead, and smiles in the way that makes the apples of his cheek shine. Donghyuck wants to kiss him. He turns away.

‘Donghyuck!’ Lucas says, voice cracking he waves him and Jeno over. ‘You never say hello back when I see you in the hallways.’

‘I probably didn’t realise it was you,’ Donghyuck finds himself biting out, sliding into the seat opposite him. He’s already regretting coming here, Lucas and his eagerness and the desperate looks Mark is sending Donghyuck to try grab his attention. ‘Don’t really pay attention.’

Lucas’ smile falters a little. ‘I was right in front of you?’ He shakes his head a little, smile coming back in full force. ‘Nurries, man. It’s nice to see you, either way.’

Why does Lucas have to be so nice? Can Donghyuck catch a break? Can he _please_ catch a break? ‘Yeah, I guess,’ Donghyuck says, really trying to be unbothered by the dying mirth in Lucas’ eyes. This is why he doesn’t want to make new friends. He always fucks it up, anyways. Why is Lucas even bothering?

Donghyuck looks over to Jeno, who’s currently engaged Mark in a heated discussion about the merits of _The Lego Movie_. At least that’s one less thing to deal with.

Maybe Donghyuck doesn’t need to deal with this at all. He should probably go – no one’s going to miss him anyways. Jeno will be fine, he’s pretty close with Mark, and he seems to get along alright with Lucas. He definitely gets along better with the two of them than Donghyuck does.

‘I’m gonna go,’ Donghyuck says, grabbing his bag again. This is too much for him. It was a mistake coming here. He’s a mistake.

Fuck.

‘Where are you going?’ Lucas is standing up as well, palms flat against the picnic table as he pushes himself up. ‘Do you need anyone to go with you?’

Oh, sweet God. Why does Lucas have to look at him like that? If he keeps it up, Donghyuck’s going to get the wrong idea. He’s too sweet to be true. ‘No, I’m alright,’ Donghyuck finds himself forcing out. He can’t help but look at Mark, helplessly, watching the way his eyes curve up in a smile as Jeno makes him laugh. Donghyuck could never do something like that. They’re always fighting.

It’s too much for him to bear.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and walks off. Donghyuck doesn’t know where he’s going. All he knows is that he needs to get away from here. Away from Mark, away from Lucas. Even away from Jeno. The shaking of his palms and the tremor that runs into his kneecaps just isn’t letting up, he can’t breathe properly, and he just needs to get _away_.

Right now, he doesn’t care how many more periods of school he has. He just wants to go home.

 

…

 

 

‘How was school today?’

It’s a question Taeyong asks Donghyuck every day. He never fails to ask it, even if he looks like he’s about to drop to the floor from exhaustion. Even if Donghyuck just grunts at him for a month straight and chooses to hole himself up in his room instead.

‘Same old,’ Donghyuck says, bringing out a quickly-slapped-together vegetable roast from the oven. ‘same old stuff.’

Taeyong frowns, rolling over to face Donghyuck from his place on their ratty couch. ‘That bad?’

Donghyuck puts the casserole dish down on a wooden board, placed gently on top of the kitchen benchtop. ‘Not really. Just sort of stressed about school again, I guess.’ There’s no need to go in depth about his problems. Donghyuck’s probably just being a hormonal insecure teen again or something. And Taeyong’s got a lot on his plate already. ‘It’s whatever. How’s the bakery going?’

‘It’s going.’ Taeyong props himself up on the couch. ‘We’re actually doing alright this month. Might be enough for me to hire someone new at this point. That, or it could be enough for me to go on a break.’

Donghyuck thinks that his brother definitely deserves a break at this point. He can’t remember a day where Taeyong hasn’t gone to work, or done something work related. Apart from Christmas, that is. _Christmas is for family_ , Taeyong would say every single year.

Okay, so maybe the bakery’s right downstairs so Taeyong would still have the shop open so that people could collect Christmas orders. But they’d always be closed by noon. They’d have the night and the next morning, all to themselves.

‘A break would be good for you,’ Donghyuck says. ‘It’s about time. You look like you’re about to break your back out there, old man.’

Taeyong grimaces at him. ‘Watch it, you.’ A pause. ‘Do I really look that old?’

‘For a twenty-five-year-old man? Not a day over ten.’

Donghyuck can’t help but laugh at the way Taeyong flops to the ground, whining. His brother’s hair, black lightened to a chocolately brown, is ridiculously mussed as he rolls around on the wooden floorboards. ‘ _Hyuck_.’

‘I’m not even sorry.’ Donghyuck rolls his eyes for the aesthetic of it. ‘Now come eat yo’ damn greens.’

Taeyong drags himself off the floor, slumping into a stool beside Donghyuck. ‘When did _you_ start taking care of _me_?’

‘When I realised that _someone_ has to take care of you,’ Donghyuck sighs, shovelling pumpkin and zucchini onto one of the plates he’s already set out, sliding it towards Taeyong. ‘School doesn’t really take up much of my time anyways. _Someone_ has to do the cooking in this household.’

‘I cook, sometimes,’ Taeyong mumbles weakly around the potato he’s shoved into his mouth. ‘Wait. Scratch that. I’m always cooking. I cook for a _living_.’

Donghyuck knows it. Sees Taeyong cracking hundreds of eggs into an industrial sized bucket like he’s in some kind of fucked up egg-cracking sweatshop every few days. Taeyong’s gotten so worryingly good with a knife that Donghyuck’s concerned for his brother’s next significant other. But what’s even worrying is that Taeyong doesn’t even have the time to _think_ about dating, let alone look for a date. At this rate, Donghyuck might just have to arrange his own brother’s marriage. He briefly entertains setting Taeyong up with Mr. Kim, before realising that it’s a recipe for disaster – no brother of his is going to become a Marxist music teacher’s rebound.

Not even if Donghyuck kind of wonders what it’d be like to live off Mr. Kim’s stable income. Yeah, Donghyuck can see that Rolex on Mr. Kim’s wrist. Who’s gonna blame a boy for dreaming sometimes?

(Though, if he thinks about it, Donghyuck’s pretty sure that a high school teacher salary is nowhere high enough for anyone to comfortably buy a Rolex. How the hell did Mr. Kim manage to stumble across one, then?)

‘You do know I don’t mind cooking for us,’ Donghyuck says, spooning food onto his own plate. ‘As I said, I don’t really get any work at school right now anyways.’

‘Surely you’ve got other stuff you’d want to do, though,’ frowns Taeyong, and Donghyuck feels a part of himself die when he sees Taeyong’s eyebags, deep and dark in the dull light of their kitchen. It almost looks like someone’s punched his brother in the face, twice. Taeyong’s always looked younger than his age, but there’s something weary in his eyes. ‘Like, you know. Kid stuff. What do teenagers do these days?’

Kid stuff, Donghyuck thinks. Kid stuff that Taeyong never got to do. ‘Uh, I don’t know. Pingers?’

‘Pingers?’ Taeyong tilts his head a little in thought. ‘What’s a “pingers”?’

Donghyuck almost chokes on a green bean. ‘Pingers? Did I say pingers? I meant _Pingu_. We watch _Pingu_.’ If Taeyong doesn’t know, he never has to know.

‘I remember when you used to watch it on ABC.’ Taeyong’s eyes get that distant, wistful look that they do sometimes. ‘You’ve grown up a lot, Hyuck.’

Donghyuck forces himself to look away, shoving more pumpkin into his mouth. ‘I guess.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Taeyong jolts up, as if someone poked him in the spine. ‘Don’t your musical auditions start soon?’

‘How’d you find out?’ There it is, that familiar pang of anxiety, thrumming through Donghyuck’s veins. He puts his fork down, wiping his palms on the legs of his sweatpants.

Taeyong puts his own fork down as well, balanced on the rim of his plate, to ruffle Donghyuck’s hair. ‘I was reading your school newsletter when the shop was quiet this afternoon. There was a little part in it by your music teacher, Mr. Moon? Did I get that right?’

‘It sounds about right.’

‘You’re going to sign up, right?’ Taeyong gives him a (tired, worryingly tired) smile. ‘You’ve done it every other year.’

Donghyuck wonders if he should, this year. He wants to, he really does. He breathes for music, feels it in every footstep, dances to every rhythm he hears. He loves to spend time with his friends, to watch them flourish. The way that Jeno closes his eyes when he plays the violin, led along by the melody. The way Chenle and Jaemin play around, singing and dancing as Jisung and Renjun compete to see who can pirouette the longest. And Mark, sweet, beautiful Mark who works so hard no matter what his role is. Donghyuck remembers the one year that Mark played a tree. The tree was the only character that the audience ended up remembering.

Donghyuck wants to do the musical so much it almost hurts. He loves the stage, loves performing, if only to see the smiles he can put on everyone’s faces.

 _You’re like the sun_ , Taeyong had told him once, fondly, when they were younger. _You make everything so much brighter._

And that’s why he’s not so sure if he should join the musical anymore. Joining the musical means going to rehearsals. It means practicing lines and practicing staging out of school time, late hours after school and paying for stage outfits and makeup. The musical is the only thing he’s looking forward to this year, but it means time and commitment and _money_ , and he doesn’t want to do that to Taeyong.

Taeyong looks more and more exhausted as the days go by. Donghyuck’s talked to Jaehyun, one of the two part-timers Taeyong had hired to help out (Donghyuck thinks that without Jaeyhyun and the other part-timer, Sicheng, Donghyuck would’ve had to have buried his brother six feet under by now), and the older boy shares his concern. Jaehyun had stopped him during his first week working at the bakery, three years ago now, after Donghyuck had caught him on the way out after his shift had ended. _Keep an eye on your brother_ , Jaehyun had said, a frown plastered across his face. _I don’t think he understands his limits._

Donghyuck was familiar with Taeyong and his lack of self-preservation. _I know_ , he’d said, about to wave it off. _He’s always like that._

 _You might know that,_ Jaehyun had said, looking forlornly at Taeyong’s silhouette in the back of house, diligently icing a monstrosity of a wedding cake, _but I’ve been here for the last four days, and the man bakes like he’s possessed by a demon. The only thing he seems to want to eat is the praise of his customers._

 _Oh,_ Donghyuck had said. That night, Taeyong almost fell down the stairs when he saw the amount of food Donghyuck had ended up cooking for the two of them. Upon seeing the spread of food, Taeyong had almost had a meltdown about potentially going over the weekly budget, before Donghyuck had ended up confessing to his part-time job as a Target employee.

 _Target,_ Taeyong had moaned, through a face-full of tears. _Out of all the places I forced you to work at, it_ had _to be Target_.

 _In my defence, Taeyongie_ , _It’s better than McDonalds._ Donghyuck had replied awkwardly, shifting his weight on the spot. But _that_ had quelled Taeyong’s crying. At least for the time being.

Money. It’s something that they both had to keep in mind. Not having parents around has forced the two of them to have to step up, fulfil roles they’d never wanted to, at least not for another decade or two, or maybe an eternity. It’s hard not living with parents, especially living without good ones. Donghyuck remembers his father’s strong hands, carding through his hair every night before he went to sleep. He remembers his mother’s cooking, the flavour Taeyong and him can never really quite recreate, her steady, sure driving, taking them to school and sport and the beach and everywhere they wanted to go.

It couldn’t have been a car accident, they’d both had thought. Their mother was always the safest driver. She’d never run a red light in her life. She refused to even start the engine before their seatbelts were on.

But Donghyuck remembers the police officers, knocking at their door, clear as day. He remembers wearing one of his father’s old hoodies, misted in his mother’s favourite perfume. Inviting the officers inside. It was 11:34pm, on the clock hanging above the doorway. _Is this about our parents?_ Taeyong had asked, pale as a sheet, like he’d known even before they’d said anything. _Mum and dad said they’d be back by 11, max. They haven’t been picking up our calls._ Sitting on the couch, lumpy. Dad promised he’d buy a new one, after his next pay check came through. Dad always kept his promises.

The policeman, the first one in, with the sandy blond hair, had looked down at their mottled carpet. _I’m sorry._ Taeyong had started crying, choked sobs hidden behind a anxiety-chewed fingers. _They_ _were in an accident, at an intersection a half-hour drive from here. Your parents are dead._

Their parent’s death hadn’t felt real, not to Donghyuck. Not with the cold, empty absence in the house, not with the ache in his feet from now having to walk everywhere. Not even in the cold gravestones, side by side, a small, quiet funeral because their extended family were all back in Korea. It’d only begun to feel real when Donghyuck had dropped a plate in their kitchen, a couple of weeks after the funeral, ceramic shattering, shard cutting open his finger and he’d realised his mother wasn’t there to scold him, to bandage the cut, his father never again to pinch his cheeks, sighing at his clumsiness. It’d only begun to feel real when Taeyong had run into the room, dropping to his knees at the sight of Donghyuck curled up on the floor, surrounded by ceramic dust and blood, tears streaking the tiles, arms slashed up and down.

It’d been a long week, then, in the hospital. A long week of wondering and waiting and feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as nurses watched him and the other kids in the medical facility from behind the bulletproof glass of the lounge. Of being unable to sleep when the door to the little room he’d been assigned would creak open every fifteen minutes to see if he’d tried to off himself again. Of watching the same damn movie on repeat because there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t a bad movie at all, but Air Bud had been forever ruined for him.

There’s nothing wrong with needing some help, Donghyuck thinks, but he feels like there’s something wrong with the system if he never wants to seek help again after his experience. He’ll just be a good kid at home, keep up the appointments with his social worker, brush off those nightmares he has of Taeyong dying and leaving him alone with bills and a bakery and himself.

‘Hyuck.’ Taeyong’s voice snaps Donghyuck out of his haze. ‘You’ve been staring at that pumpkin like it kicked your dog or something.’

‘Oh.’ Donghyuck stabs at the pumpkin with his fork, shovelling it into his mouth. ‘We don’t have a dog.’

Taeyong bites at his bottom lip, the skin a chewed mess. ‘Should we get one?’

Donghyuck just about falls over at the suggestion. ‘Do we even have the money for it? Scratch that, do we have enough space for a dog?’ He’s certainly not going to say no if Taeyong insists on one, but he’s pretty sure that if he were a dog, he’d want more than an apartment to run around in.

‘We’ve got plenty left over from… from inheritance,’ Taeyong starts, leaning his head on his hand, propped up on the table, ‘but you’re right. Maybe a cat, then?’

‘A cat?’ Donghyuck thinks about Jeno’s three cats, the way the boy had presented them proudly to him, one by one, amidst sneezes and sniffles the last time he’d gone over to Jeno’s place. ‘Awesome.’

‘Then I’ll take the weekend off next week, and we can go adopt one?’ Taeyong puts down his fork, in favour of wringing his hands, the shadows from his fingers making a sort of anxious echidna silhouette on the table. ‘I was thinking going to the RSPCA? If that was alright with you, because –’

‘Taeyong. Say no more.’ Donghyuck doesn’t know if he’s going to laugh or cry, at the earnest expression on his brother’s face, the hopeful worry that swirls in his eyes. ‘I’d rather adopt from the RSPCA than go to a breeder, anyways. And I can’t wait. I haven’t spent quality time with you in ages.’

‘I’m sorry, Hyuckie,’ Taeyong looks relieved, but the anxiety that lines his features still refuses to go away.

Donghyuck takes the opportunity to lean over the table, piling Taeyong’s plate back up again with more vegetables. ‘What’s there to be sorry for? Just eat your goddamn food.’

‘ _Hyuck_.’

‘Shut up and eat your dinner, old man.’ Donghyuck watches in satisfaction as Taeyong rolls his eyes, resuming his meal, wiping little tears out of his eyes. If Donghyuck ducks his head to rub the tears out of his own eyes, too, neither of them say anything. God, Donghyuck would do anything for his brother. He’s the only family he has left.

Taeyong freezes, a piece of broccoli halfway to his mouth. ‘But, Donghyuck. _Are_ you going to try out for the musical?’

Donghyuck thinks about Taeyong’s gaze, worn and tired, lighting up at the thought of seeing him on stage. ‘Maybe, _hyung-ah_. Maybe.’

 

…

 

‘What do you _mean_ you’re going to sing Mariah Carey for your audition?’

‘I said what I said, bitch,’ Donghyuck simpers, brushing a hand through his fringe in the most melodramatic way he possibly can. It’s recess, and he’s currently engaged in dramatic, hot, gay gossip with the only person he knows can even attempt to one-up Donghyuck with even more dramatics.

Jaemin is still reeling from the (fake, so very fake, everyone and their pet goldfish knows how hard Donghyuck goes during auditions) shock, slumped against the wall beside him, an open palm splayed open at his forehead, the other flared at his waist, making him look like either a drunk chicken or a drag queen in training. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Donghyuck grins. ‘Then _beg_.’

‘Donghyuck Lee, a skinny _queen_. We stan a legend forever,’ says Jaemin. Donghyuck strikes a pose, fighting back the urge to weigh himself on the scales and cry about his weight. He’s not going to ruin a little bit of banter with his goddamn insecurities today, alright? He’s got this in the _bag_. His mental health is his _bitch_ , today. He’s got this. He is Donghyuck Lee, brother of infallibly gorgeous Taeyong Lee. Visuals run in their _blood_ , much like his tears run down his face every time he looks in the mirror, hating his chubby cheeks and his small, round eyes and his small, round lips.

God damn it.

He strikes another, more dramatic pose, to make up for being unable to come up with more witty self-praise. Jaemin straightens up, then, looking a little more serious when he says, ‘But I also wanted to ask you something.’

‘Ask away,’ Donghyuck replies. He checks his nails, nonchalantly. He’s chosen a muted red this time, one of the little bottles of polish his mother always loved. _For special occasions, only,_ she’d said to Donghyuck, when he was younger, as he watched her paint her nails at her dresser. It was an hour before the bakery opened up, his father already downstairs, baking with Taeyong and their staff. Their mother was never good with pastries, so she’d stuck to managing finances and the front of house. _You wear this colour every day, Mum_ , he’d said. She’d laughed, leaning down to kiss him gently on the crown of his head. _Every day is special, Hyuck-ah. Remember that for mum, yeah?_

‘It’s about Jeno.’ Donghyuck looks up, hands falling back to his waist. ‘He’s been acting…’

Donghyuck makes a mental note to find Jeno later. ‘Acting…?’

‘Weird.’ Jaemin says, finally, after what seems to be a long moment of deliberation. ‘He seems a lot more skittish than usual. Doesn’t reply to my texts until the next day or a few days later. I thought you might know something about it.’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Donghyuck feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, probably a text message.

Jaemin laughs, and it’s odd how bitter it sounds. ‘Hell, if I _could_. I couldn’t get a hold of him even if I had a SWAT team on hand.’ He smirks, but pull of his lips is lemon-sour. ‘I mean, how is this even possible? Who could resist a face like this?’

 _Jeno, it seems, but he really likes your dumb Mii-shaped face,_ Donghyuck thankfully does not say, lest he ruin his four-year-long friendships with Jaemin and Jeno with one breath. ‘Who knows? I’ll see if I can ask him what’s up, then.’ By that, Donghyuck probably means cuddle Jeno as the older boy sniffles into his shoulder about what Donghyuck believes just might be the result of having third-wheeled Renjun and Jaemin on another disgustingly sweet date. ‘When was the last time you saw or talked to him?’

‘Oh?’ Jaemin looks up, wondering. ‘Probably when I went with him and Junnie to the movies, last night. But he was really quiet. Has been for a while.’

‘Movies, huh?’ Donghyuck is _so_ going to slap Jeno for putting himself in that kind of situation willingly, and then going to hug him for being such a self-flagellating, romantic sap. ‘Well, I’ll see what I can do.’ He pulls out his phone, as if to check the time. He checks the notifications on his lockscreen instead – yeah, it’s Jeno, the little message asking _hey baebey,,, u up?? xdxd_. Cheeky fucker. ‘I think I wanna go ask Mr. Moon something, though. I’ll see you at lunch, Nana?’

‘Lunch? Sure.’ Jaemin gives Donghyuck a two fingered salute, turning around and walking back down the stairs they were chatting on top of. ‘See you later, Mariah Carey.’

‘You too, you strange, humanoid Mr. Potato Head.’ Jaemin flips Donghyuck the bird in response.

Once Jaemin rounds the corner, Donghyuck turns on his heels, ready to run to the Music practice rooms where Jeno probably is, when he comes face to face with someone’s whole chest, crashing into them.

It’s a good chest, Donghyuck finds himself thinking, broad and warm and solid. The arms that wrap around him, encircling his shoulders are even more so, keeping him from falling to the floor. He’s feeling a lot of things right now, warmth and some kind of butterflies and maybe a little bit of shame and shock, but none of them really come into play until he looks _up._

_‘Lucas?’_

‘It be me.’ Lucas Wong gives Donghyuck the dopiest smile he’s ever seen in his whole life. The senior is even doing _jazz hands_ behind Donghyuck’s back, if the turbine-like fluttering of his palms against Donghyuck’s spine is any indicator. ‘Oh. I should probably let you go.’

‘Just probably,’ Donghyuck wheezes out. ‘Uh…’

‘I didn’t mean to run in to you,’ and oh _God_ why does Lucas look so damn mournful. ‘I was going to say hi, but then you kind of…’

Donghyuck really wants to fall into a hole and never ever get back up again. ‘It’s all good, bro.’

‘Bro?’

‘Yeah, dude,’ says Donghyuck, brushing his sweaty palms off on his school pants. ‘No biggie. You alright?’ And then Donghyuck chances a glance up at Lucas, only to see that the older boy looks like his soul has been siphoned out of his body like someone took a Shamwow to it.

‘Yeah,’ Lucas breathes, pale to the lips. ‘Yeah. I’m. I’m just going to.’ He turns around, sighing, drooping. A pair of juniors, arm in arm, walking down the hallway look at him in concern, as he disappears around the bend of the corner, feet dragging behind him.

Huh. Strange.

Donghyuck brushes it off. If he gives Lucas too much thought, he’s going to start feeling really weird stuff, and he’d rather not at this point in time. His energy’s better invested in something like Jeno’s wellbeing and health, and his current assessments, and next month’s water bill.

And auditioning for the musical.

He’s practically alive with excitement, the nervous energy running through his veins when he hears a voice, right beside him from behind the classroom he’s standing outside. ‘Houston,’ the voice behind the door says, creaked open just slightly, ‘I’ve just witnessed a cold-blooded murder.’

‘Jeno?’ And there he is, the man, the myth, the legend himself, slinking out the door with his long legs and catlike smile. ‘Jesus fuck, my soul almost left my body.’

‘Well, Lucas’ definitely left his,’ Jeno says, shaking his head, ‘so I’d say that’s equivalent exchange.’

‘Fuck you,’ Donghyuck laughs, without any heat behind his words. ‘It doesn’t mean a thing, anyways. Why are you here and not at the music rooms?’

Jeno rolls his eyes, pulling Donghyuck into the room by the wrist. ‘My last class was in here. Wasn’t bothered to move. But hell yeah it means something. This is the most action you’ve gotten since the school’s golden boy.’ He stops, in thought. ‘Though, Lucas is kind of a golden boy in his own right.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘He’s gotten into State-level Zone pretty much every single year,’ Jeno says, sighing in a way that Donghyuck can only describe as _wistful_ (and why the hell does that make Donghyuck feel like there’s a rolling boil in his stomach?). ‘He’s sweet even though his grades are trash, and not even Mr. Kim can hold a grudge against him.’ Jeno tilts his head, smiling. ‘And you know how petty he can be.’

Donghyuck blinks. ‘Why would Mr. Kim have a grudge against Lucas in the first place?’

‘Lucas tried to audition for the musical too, apparently, earlier this week. He got as far as opening his mouth before Mr. Kim’s room started falling apart around him.’ Jeno’s speaking with the most serene look on his face, but the shaking of his shoulders betrays the humour he finds in the situation. ‘Seems like the guy’s not entirely suited to school musical productions.’

‘Hey,’ Donghyuck protests, before he can take the ire out of his voice. ‘He can’t be that bad.’ He’s never heard Lucas play an instrument in his life, nor has he ever heard the boy sing, but there’s something in him that wants to stand up for the guy, talentless or not.

Jeno, that smug bitch, grins even wider. ‘Knew you’d defend him, Duckie.’

‘What do you mean you _knew_ , you cheap whore.’ Donghyuck shoves Jeno, lightly, the older boy cackling.

‘There’s nothing wrong with having a new crush, Donghyuck Lee. If anything, I’m glad you’ve found someone you’re interested in, now.’

‘I’m not _interested_ in him,’ Donghyuck can feel himself blushing, tongue stuttering over the syllables.

‘Keep telling yourself that.’ Jeno’s smile falters, just a little. ‘At least you have someone who likes you back.’

Oh, Jeno. Poor, sweet Jeno who leads with his heart too much for it to not hurt. Sweet, dumb Jeno who willingly thirdwheels with not one, but _two_ people he’s kind of madly in love with. Donghyuck sits down on the floor, crossing his legs before beckoning Jeno over. Jeno tucks himself under Donghyuck’s arm, dutifully. ‘Jeno. You know Jaemin’s been trying to catch you alone for a while now, right?’

‘Oh.’ Jeno stills, against Donghyuck’s chest. There’s a long pause, Jeno’s brow furrowed in thought. And then, ‘Oh, worm?’

Donghyuck almost bursts out laughing. Whether it’s from hysteria or relief, he’s not entirely sure. ‘Really, Jen? A meme?’

‘I use memes to cope with my crippling anxiety and self esteem issues,’ Jeno says, smoothly.

‘Big mood.’

‘Bigger mood.’

‘Dude, you can’t big mood yourself. That’s so not how it works.’

‘Does it look like I care?’ Jeno sighs. ‘But yeah, I guess I need to face him, some time.’

Donghyuck pulls Jeno closer, sighing. ‘It better be soon. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Jen. What you’re doing to yourself, it’s not healthy. Be kinder to yourself.’ It’s the sort of advice that’s always easier to say than it is to hear, Donghyuck thinks.

‘I guess,’ comes Jeno’s voice, soft. ‘I’ll try. I miss sitting with the guys, you know. I want to get this over and done with so I can face everyone again. I miss Chenle and Jisung.’

‘Yeah,’ Donghyuck hasn’t seen those two in ages. He hopes they’re not embroiled in their own brand of teenage drama. Then again, they probably won’t. Chenle’s always been too honest, Jisung too sweet, for anything to come between the two of them. Whatever might happen between them would most likely work out in a manner of minutes. Man, does Donghyuck wish his issues were that easily resolved. Maybe if he just knew how to open up properly, maybe if he wouldn’t pick a fight with Mark whenever he could. ‘You know, I miss Mark too. I just don’t know how to approach the guy.’

‘It’ll be alright, Hyuck. We’ll work it out.’ Jeno links his hands with Donghyuck’s, warm, pale digits threading between his own. ‘We’ll find a way to work it out.’

Donghyuck hopes, prays, that Jeno is right. He can feel his breath against his neck, warm puffs of air. He wonders how he might be able to make Jeno smile, just for a moment. And then it hits him. ‘Oh yeah, by the way, did you know I’m getting a cat?’

 ‘A _cat?’_  Jeno's eyes are star-speckled, pupils full-blown with sheer joy, radiating a pure warmth. Donghyuck is so unbelievably endeared it’s almost physically painful. He acts upon his personal impulses, bringing, Jeno into the warmth of his arms. ‘Duckie, you’re getting a whole _cat?’_

‘Damn, bitch, how the _fuck_ are you so cute?’ Donghyuck sighs, into Jeno’s hair. ‘Hell yeah I’m getting a cat. What should I name it?’

‘You don’t choose the cat’s name,’ Jeno says, sagely. ‘The cat’s name calls to you, from the warm orbs that form their eternal gaze. Calm. Cool. Serene. All that you will ever need in life.’

‘You’re right. I’ll just wait to meet them, and then see.’

‘Good move, my friend. Good move.’ Jeno nuzzles his cheek into Donghyuck’s collarbone, and Donghyuck _melts_.

Maybe he’s just about ready to bury all his boy drama, for now. When Donghyuck thinks about it, a good friend is all he really needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man this took AGES to write bc i hit a bit of a creative rut with this  
> but now ya boi is back at it again!! still on the sort of world-character-building type stuff, but the real plot should kick in next chapter or so!!! look forward to that  
>  
> 
> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tunajohns) where i will intermittently subtweet kun to yeet me to a random destination on a whim or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/tunajohns) if you wanna talk abt hyuckhei or fic ideas or something!!

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tunajohns) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tunajohns)


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